Chapter 7 - The Hunt in the Hallway
The sound of heavy, rapid footsteps echoed from the foyer below.
Beatrice stood on the landing of the grand staircase, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath shallow and quiet. She could hear the voices of the men, their accents thick with the gravel of the Detroit streets.
"Find the girl," a voice ordered, cold and mechanical. "Don Joseph wants her back in Detroit before the father even knows we’re here. And find the maid. The one who put her hands on Victoria."
"What about the guards?" another asked.
"They’re taken care of," the first voice replied. "Move. We have five minutes before the docks team realizes the feed is looped."
Beatrice didn't wait to hear more. She turned and ran back down the second-floor corridor, her thighs brushing, her breath burning in her throat. Every step felt like an eternity, her large body a target in the long, narrow hallway.
She reached Lily's door and tapped three times—their secret signal.
"Thomas," she whispered. "Open it."
The heavy mahogany door swung open a crack, revealing Thomas’s pale face. Beatrice pushed past him, her body filling the doorway, and immediately helped him slide the heavy walnut dresser back against the lock.
Lily was sitting up in bed, her small face pale, her hands clutching her stuffed rabbit and her grandfather's brass compass. She didn't cry. She had grown up in the shadow of the Rossi name; she knew what the dark meant.
"Bee," Lily whispered, her eyes wide.
"I'm here, sweet girl," Beatrice said, walking over and wrapping her uninjured arm around Lily's shoulders, pulling her close against her side. "We’re going to play a game, okay? A hiding game. Like the thunder game."
"The blue whale game?" Lily asked.
"Yes," Beatrice said, her voice shaking slightly but her eyes holding a fierce, protective warmth. "We’re going to go deep down into the ocean. Where it’s quiet. Where no one can hear us."
She looked at the closet—a massive, walk-in space filled with Lily's dresses and toys. It had a small, wooden panel in the back wall that led to the service crawlspace, a relic of the mansion’s original construction during the Prohibition era when the Rossis needed a way to move liquor between the floors.
Beatrice had found it while vacuuming the closet during her first week.
"In there," Beatrice said to Thomas, pointing to the closet. "Take Lily. Go into the crawlspace and slide the panel shut. Don't make a sound. No matter what you hear in this room, you stay down there."
"What about you?" Thomas asked, his voice trembling.
"I'm staying here," Beatrice said, holding the brass poker in her right hand. "They're looking for the maid, Thomas. If they find an empty room, they’ll search the whole floor. If they find me, they’ll stop looking."
"Bee, no!" Lily whimpered, her small fingers clutching Beatrice’s sleeve. "Don't go!"
"I'm not going far, baby," Beatrice whispered, kissing her forehead, her tears warm against the child's skin. "I'm just going to stay here and watch the door. Your compass... you hold onto it. It will show you the way back to me."
Thomas grabbed Lily, lifting her gently into his arms, and stepped into the closet. Within seconds, the sound of the wooden panel sliding shut echoed from the back of the dresses, leaving the bedroom quiet once more.
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Beatrice stood in the center of the room.
She looked at her ruined uniform, her swollen hand, and the heavy brass poker in her grip. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and waited for the door to break.
